Ahem! "As technological processes reflect back onto ourselves, altering our methods of perceiving and cataloging, we understand our world more and more in terms of patterns of information." That mucho profondo sentence occurs right at the beginning of the document I have in my hand, and this one follows soon after: "The play of pattern and randomness is seen as [a] main organizing principle of a new era." Are these statements something from an academic press about a new book from, say, that...
The renowned English painter David Hockney says the a-ha! moment for him came during a visit to a 1999 Ingres exhibition at London's National Gallery. He was looking admiringly at a suite of portrait drawings the French academic master made around 1820. "It was the smallness and the speed of the drawings that got me," Hockney says.
You wouldn't think that, in times like these in New York City, the two most uplifting art exhibitions around would be of modern sculpture. (Looking at pictures tends to make us happier than looking at objects.)And not only are the shows of modern sculpture, but of objects of unpainted, unadorned, blackish and brownish metal.
When Thomas Eakins (1844-1916) was finally awarded a gold medal in painting at the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts in 1904, he said to the academy president, "You've got a heap of impudence to give me a medal." (Eakins had been dismissed from the school's faculty in 1886.) He immediately bicycled down to the U.S. Mint where he redeemed the gold for $73.
Day One: My wife and I live in a very comfortable loft, about 10 blocks north of where the World Trade Towers used to stand.We're "grandfathered" into the place in veritable perpetuity courtesy of New York City's loft laws, which were passed to protect artists who homesteaded formerly derelict light-manufacturing neighborhoods in lower Manhattan. (We're both painters.) And although we by no means qualify as rich, we were also "grandfathered" into an incredibly privileged life: art galleries,...
The sculptor Robert Gober is the sole U.S. representative at this year's edition of the art world's equivalent of the Oscars, the Venice Biennale. (It runs from June 10 to Nov. 4.) Being asked to occupy the American Pavilion--a nice little brick neoclassical building constructed in 1930--with a solo exhibition is like being named best artist.
Almost all of the critical and press attention for "Committed to the Image: Contemporary Black Photographers" (at the Brooklyn Museum of Art through April 29) has been focused on one work: Renee Cox's "Yo Mama's Last Supper." We'll get to that in a bit.
Kathleen Cambor's meditative novel In Sunlight, in a Beautiful Garden(256 pages. Farrar Straus. $23) takes place during the 1889 Johnstown flood. The lyrical Cambor can get so dreamy with questions of love and loss that the pace crawls; when the dam finally bursts--thanks to rich folks who can't be bothered about poor folks--it kills 2,200 people but saves the book.Jeff GilesBlacks have been neglected in fiction about the Old West, and Gabriel's Story(304 pages.
b. April 17, 1916Growing up in a wealthy family, she had no political aspirations. Then her husband, the prime minister, was assassinated in 1959. The "weeping widow" toured the country giving emotional campaign speeches that won her the 1960 Sri Lankan elections--making her the world's first female prime minister.
A particularly dreary New York day last February was brightened--for me--by a call from Nancy Hoffman, the art dealer who handles my abstract paintings, saying that the curator from the Las Vegas Art Museum had just been in, looked at some paintings dating from the last ten years, and wanted to mount a show of them in November.This was a bolt from the blue.
Kate Sekules's tough-but-tender book "The Boxer's Heart" follows a travel and food writer (Sekules herself) preparing for, and finally going through with, her first and only professional fight. (Her opponent is a wanna-be fashion model with the wonderful moniker "Raging Belle.") In the pages between, Sekules digresses on machismo, vanity and the history of women's boxing.
We all love plucky old ladies: the one from Pasadena who drove a hot rod in the Jan & Dean song, Ruth Gordon in all those movies, and Clara Peller, who famously asked in a TV commercial, "Where's the beef?" The art world love them, too: Its reigning feisty senior is Louise Bourgeois, the diminuitive 89-year-old sculptor whose latest commission is a 30-foot metal spider in the new Tate Modern museum in London.